


crystalline memories

by tangerinebasket



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Assassination, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, Blood Magic, Blood and Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Murder, Out of Character, Past Abuse, Witch!Donghyuck, Witch!Haechan, big fat fucking mess bc im desperately trying to be funny even though its a dark piece, did i mention donghyuck is a witch?, generally not a happy piece, happy ending! probably!, hehe svt cameos bc i love them, idk if murder and shit is teen and up or if it should be mature, im not funny but i try desperately to be, ive no bloody clue what im doing, lapslock, might add more idk im bad at this, minghao plays a relatively large role in this but the rest not as much, people treat murder very differently in this au, the subject of murder and death is very present, witch hyuck is the sole reason why i couldnt settle on just a dystopian assassins au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-07-29 21:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16273160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinebasket/pseuds/tangerinebasket
Summary: "what is good? huh? who gets to decide what good is in this shitty, fucked up world? maybe before the world went to shit, yes there was bad and there was good but now? people drop dead like flies. extend a helping hand and your hand will get bitten. there's no one to watching over you or what you love, no one to tell you what is bad and what is good. you have to fend for yourself. i have to protect what's important to me.""you still need to have good in your life. or there's no point in living.""you. you are my good"or fucked up people live in a fucked up world. time and death don't wait for you, you just have to take what you can get and make do.(or the dreamies as witches who murder part time)(dystopian dream au but there's also magic but there's also assassins bc i couldn't choose one)





	1. 一

**Author's Note:**

> hi folkses uhh, so this world has been slowly brewing in my head for a month so, uh, hope you enjoy this! please let me know if i missed out any tags or tws also if anyone is willing to listen to me scream about this au pls hmu on twitter @cynicysmic pls i want friends

jaemin’s 253rd; second day of the eighth moon

 

and the bullet cuts right through the tendon, renjun’s aim perfect as always. he laughs to himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he swings himself over the balcony, knives at the ready. in the few seconds it took for his body to fall, jaemin had five different perfect opportunities to end the man’s life, with varying degrees of pain and blood spilt but of course, he waits until he’s hanging from the railing by his ankles, centimetres away from the man’s head.  
  
he drags the blades of his knives against each other, the grating sound distracting the man from the bullet wound in his leg. the man turns his head slowly. he looks up and jaemin’s eyes capture it in slow motion. the way the man’s eyes widen is almost comical and jaemin drinks it in, savouring the way confusion and distress flash across the man’s features, drinking in the way panic sets in his features.  
  
he doesn’t think he’ll have to coax a scream out of this one, his little trick seemed to have been enough.  
  
and sure enough, he’s right. he tends to be.  
  
the man screams, a shrill scream, fear so palpable jaemin can almost taste it.  
  
_delicious_  
  
and, oh that’s just the cherry on top. he laughs out loud, looking up to the rooftop a good 50 meters away where he knows renjun is sitting with his rifle. he catches sight of renjun’s blonde hair, just barely visible over the railing because it stands out against the stark backdrop that is Reformation at 4am and laughs a little louder. his eyesight isn’t perfect but it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t need to see that far.  
  
after all, what’s most important is always right in front of him.  
  
he turns his attention back to the man on the floor looking up at him, fear, absolute and undiluted colouring his features. jaemin smiles. he kicks off of the balcony, propelling himself forward with a little flip just for the heck of it. his knives slice almost of their own accord, of course missing anything vital.  
  
somewhere in the back of his mind, his brain registers that the sound of feet hitting pavement and a skull hitting concrete are distinctly different.  
   
the man isn’t conscious anymore.  
  
he had passed out. shock, maybe.  
  
it doesn’t matter  
  
_oh._  
  
_that was disappointing._  
  
though before jaemin can start sulking a bullet cuts straight through the man’s skull, cleanly between the eyes.  
  
and just like that the job is done.  
  
disappointing.  
  
and maybe, if jaemin weren’t so far gone, if he weren’t so addicted to the thrill of murder and so, so, so overwhelmingly empty when he misses that delicious rush by just so much, just maybe he would have noticed. maybe he would have realised how had he moved even an inch, the bullet would have grazed his cheek.  
  
but he doesn’t. he doesn’t notice because all he can feel is the disappointment of a craving not quite satisfied, an itch not quite scratched.  
  
jaemin transfers both knives to one hand and sighs to himself as he pulls the small vial out of his pocket with the other. he reads donghyuck’s scrawly _this is already the 5th one this month >:(_ as he uncorks vial with practiced ease and downs the purple liquid in one shot. it tastes sweeter than the last one did. jaemin makes a mental note to let donghyuck know that the rose-infused oolong does in fact taste better than the raspberry chamomile.  
  
jaemin pouts up at the rooftop. he knows renjun probably wouldnt see him but he does it more for the sake of it than anything. he sheathes his knives and pulls out his vibrating cell phone after a bit of fumbling around in the wrong pocket.  
  
**renjun:** i can feel you pouting from here ok pls  
  
jaemin smiles to himself, equal parts renjun and witchcraft helping to melt away his thoughts  
  
**jaemin:** :((  
  
**renjun:** how’s the rose oolong infusion  
  
somewhere in the back of his mind jaemin faintly registers that renjun is only on his second one this month. he hasn’t tasted the rose-infused oolong or the raspberry chamomile. or the Boiled Zucchini Berry Bash from that one day donghyuck thought avant grade potion brewing was a good idea. dang, renjun got to skip that one, the lucky bastard.  
  
**jaemin:** u remembered? lol  
  
**renjun:** hyuck WOULD NOT SHUT UP it would take some kind of superpower to forget  
  
**jaemin:** lmao  
  
he fiddles with his bracelet as he wait for renjun to reply, slightly antsy as the potion makes its way through his system. he can’t tell is renjun is takings time to reply or if the concoction is already starting to warp his perception of time.  
  
**renjun:** u good?  
  
**jaemin:** yeah yeah come down :p  
  
**renjun:** 1) that emoji is horrendous, please never use it again 2) i’m here already someone was too busy pouting at a fucking corpse to move their damn ass  
  
**jaemin:** that shit hurted :(  
  
**jaemin:** </3  
  
**renjun:** okay hilarious hurry up its cold you loser  
  
a soft laugh escapes his lips as jaemin pockets the device and pulls his jacket tighter around himself. he pulls himself to his feet and sprints down the street, savouring the way the early morning wind whips through his hair and how concocted energy courses through his veins. he catches sight of renjun’s lithe figure, half-hidden in the mouth of an alleyway.  
  
in that moment jaemin feels powerful. he feels full, he feels free and he feels alive.  
  
jaemin sprints a little faster and yanks renjun by the sleeve and pulls him into a kiss. with a shake of blonde hair, renjun presses a tube of Luscious Lips: Strawberry Shine Moisturising Lip Balm into jaemin’s free palm, electing to leave his other hand where it rests on his wrist, knowing it will make its way into his hand sooner or later.  


 

  
  
_and we ran through the streets, autumn wind coursing through our hair, laughing as if we hadn't a care in the world. and the morning was cold but your hand was in mine with that smile on your face and you just have some kind of magic in you that makes me feel so free._  
  
_so alive._  
  
_and i see the world in technicolour. there are no clouds, just silver linings because you make me feel a happiness one can only wish for. because when i hear your laugh, its impossible to feel anything but infinite._  


 

  
  
and so they chase each other through barren alleyways, the bloodied corpse of a man they had never spoken to left forgotten in a manicured street north of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> varied sentence structure? whomst be she. anyways please do let me know what you think and drop a comment! of any kind! even if its hate mail i just like attention. :D yeah btw if anyone is willing to have me bounce ideas off of them Blease hit me up on twitter @renjunerest yeet folks!
> 
> also yeah if you haven't figured out i'm going by days in a year and the lunar calendar. im using the lunar calendar for 2018 just so its easier to convert hshdjnsnd lmao. this isn't set in 2018 though. i don't know when this is set. presumably in the future but this is also an alternate universe so it doesn't really matter i guess. i am very mess but hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> (i don't know if you can tell that i've never done this before but idk how to chnage the chpater thing. there's definitely gonna be more than one chapter and the next one is coming tomorrow, hopefully!)


	2. 二

renjun’s 253rd; second day of the eighth moon  
  
_inhale_  
  
_3, 2, 1_  
  
_exhale_  
  
and he shoots.  
  
the bullet slices through the man’s tendon like butter and he falls to the ground.  
  
_perfect_. it’s always perfect.  
  
a flurry of dyed pink hair sweeps in, feet precariously hanging off of an overcropping, twin knives in hand.  
  
_all the things you make me do huh. out love, outta love_ , renjun sighs to himself (in mark’s voice for whatever reason.) he rubs the bracelet on his wrist absent-mindedly, a fond smile betraying him as he watches jaemin in his element, wrists so swift, movements so graceful,  
  
it were as if he was dancing.  
  
there’s a scream, then the slice of knife splitting skin. then a bright laugh most would consider out of place at an assassination.  
  
it’s a symphony of, in renjun’s opinion, the three best sounds in the world, though he isn’t so sure when he began to conflate the three.  
  
another laugh resonates through the empty alleyways, echoing off of concrete and steel and renjun knows how the thick, white walls of the Reformation block are soundproof and the fact that he alone gets to savour this moment somehow just makes it all the better.  
  
he looks down and sees the target unconscious on the ground, deep gashes across his forearms and thighs, smaller slashes across the torso, the already torn shirt reduced to ribbons.  
  
_shit. he’s unconscious_.  
  
his heartbeat starts to quicken, despite his wishes.  
  
renjun sighs because he should, but he can feel his blood rushing as he takes aim, jaemin’s pink head clearly visible in the crosshair.  
  
he hates it. that he can see those gorgeous pink locks in his crosshair and still be willing to risk the shot. he hates it  
  
_jaemin won’t kill the dude if he’s unconscious and the sooner we finish this job the better_ , he tries to reason with himself, shaky fingers already loading his gun.  
  
i’m _helping jaemin like this, plus he took the last one and_ i’ll _just let him take the next one_ , he tries again.  
  
renjun doesn’t know when his Ugly Truths Inner Voice started to sound like chenle but he hears a _goddamnit stop lying to yourself renjun you aren’t helping anyone least of all yourself_ in an accent a little too distinctly chenle’s than he is comfortable with.  
  
suddenley he sees. the clear path to the man's heart. he should just shoot the man in the chest, where the bullet has less risk of hitting the boy

 _shoot him in the chest renjun, just shoot him in the chest_ , he tries _  
_

and its so ugly but renjun knows himself. so he pretends he never thought of it. he can just pretend the thought never even crossed his mind and that this headshot was just a calculated risk he had to take. he can’t quite tell if he’s appealing to himself or his unfortunately green-haired conscience.  
  
renjun closes his eyes and shuts out the thought. he never thought of shooting the man in the chest. perhaps he’d realise it later and regret not thinking of it earlier. but renjun knows he and jaemin are more alike than he likes to admit.  
  
he doesn’t quite notice when he squeezes the trigger.  
  
and he watches the bullet graze past a lock of dyed pink hair and nail the man straight between the eyes.  
  
_ah. perfect._  
  
he lets himself bask in the glory of another perfect shot, indulging himself ( _just this once_ , he promises to the disappointed Not-Chenle)  
  
_at least one of us got something out of this_ , his brain supplies, though renjun immediately shuts the thought out not wanting to think about his (“ADDICTION!!” the chenle-conscience screams. renjun pointedly ignores it) issues right now. he shoots a quick message to jaemin, knowing the power of the pout that can make the strongest men go weak at the knees.  
  
he quickly packs up his equipment, shaking but practiced hands making quick work of it as he makes his way down the stainless steel stairway that winds around the building, excitement bubbling in his throat as the phone in his pocket vibrates.  
  
he feels giddy, the thrill of having landed that precarious shot, and oh, renjun feels powerful. an indulgence stained with guilt soothes the itch nonetheless. even if you scratch until you bleed for that fleeting moment, the itch is relieved.  
  
he can’t see the manic smile on his face, the unsettling light in his eyes as he dips his hand into his pocket.  
  
in digging around in his pocket, he feels a cool little vial and faintly registers relief at the fact that he had managed to convince jaemin to keep his own vial with him for the night’s operation.  
  
(maybe he had entertained thoughts of the night playing out like it had. something going wrong on jaemin’s night, letting renjun take the shot. he’d never admit it though. renjun assures himself and his conscience that he just wanted to avoid having to carry jaemin home through Reformation.)  
  
he opens up his messages and sees the “:((“. renjun knows firsthand just how fast donghyuck’s brews work so jaemin should be fine by now but he just wants to make sure. what was it this time? raspberry chamomile? wait no, that was the last one this one should be the rose-oolong infusion. god they all sound the same.  
  
jaemin’s reply comes quickly “u remembered? lol”  
  
renjun is reminded briefly of the scene six hours ago when hyuck had chased them down the hallway to remind them that the flavour this time was different yelling that IF YOU LOVE ME YOU’LL GIVE ME FEEDBACK. (“EAT SHIT HYUCK NODOBY CARES ABOUT YOUR FUCKING GREEN TEA INFUSION” “FUCK YOU ITS ROSE-INFUSED OOLONG, IT’S NOT THAT DIFFICULT, GREEN TEA WAS LAS-“ the exchange was cut off by the door to the stairwell slamming closed, jaemin and renjun having taken too long with dinner and donghyuck not bothered enough to chase them more than three doors down the hallway.)  
  
_ah right! the memories_  
  
renjun slides open the small compartment of the thin band on his wrist and sees the small pink crystal that sits neatly in the indent. he has a feeling he knows which memory jaemin had stored for him today. he licks up the little crystal like second nature and lets the sweet warmth spread in his mouth as it dissolves.  
  
/// twelve hours ago ///  
  
renjun and jaemin were sitting on the floor, leaning against the window in the living room of their dusty, cramped apartment. they were meters away from the radiator, wearing crappy t-shirts and sweatpants. donghyuck, jeno and jisung were busy with the shop while mark was running around the complex, frantically looking for chenle.  
  
(he was with the red velvet girls from the fifth floor brushing up on his dark magic skills and both renjun and jaemin knew this, but it was generally accepted amongst the seven boys, barring mark, that Watching Mark Suffer, or even better, Making Mark Suffer is a perfectly acceptable pastime. mark himself vehemently disagreed on the validities of these pastimes but he was generally outvoted on matters like these.)  
  
late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window, the two boys just out of range of the bright rays, tucked into a little corner of the room. they had pulled all the pillows from the sofa and mark’s duvet from his bed to cushion the little corner where they sat. jaemin sat with his back to the wall, his arms around renjun’s waist and his chin resting on renjun’s head. renjun sat in front of jaemin hugging a pillow, humming a song in chinese that his mother used to sing way back when. and they had sat there for an hour, renjun singing and jaemin listening.  
  
renjun remembers jaemin’s warmth against his back and his chin on his head. he remembers watching the shadows from the block across the street move across the wooden floorboard, inching closer and closer towards his feet, then his legs, then his arms. he remembers how he could see the dust floating about in the air where the sun shone the brightest. he remembers the way images of his mother and his childhood that would flash through his mind unbidden. he remembers that the way jaemin rubbed little circles at his waist made it easy to forget. he remembers how jaemin, in general, makes life in general easier. he remembers the way his back ached a little from the weird position he was stuck in, unwilling to make even the slightest movement that would make jaemin move his arms from where they sat wrapped around renjun’s waist or stop pressing soft kisses to the top of his head every once in a while.  
  
but now he sees everything how jaemin did. he feels all of jaemin’s emotions so vividly, just the way jaemin himself had, twelve hours ago. he sees how jaemin loves the beautiful lilt in the way he sings, how he can still pick up on the smallest traces of his accent and how endearing it is to him. (renjun makes a mental note to screw up his pronunciation more) he sees how jaemin finds it cute when he shakes his head to the beat of the song. he sees himself, illuminated by late afternoon sunlight, like a picturesque scene ripped straight from a movie, every second and every frame of that beautiful moment in time a critically acclaimed masterpiece. he feels so viscerally the way jaemin felt enchanted by his voice, and though jaemin tells his constantly, feeling it so vividly is a different experience completely. he feels such raw, such undiluted love and renjun drinks it in. he savours every second of the memory.  
  
(renjun now knows that had he adjusted to a more comfortable position, jaemin would have left kisses on his cheek instead. what a missed opportunity.)  
  
and all too soon, there’s no sunlight warming his arms, there are no chapped lips against his hair and no circles being rubbed into his stomach.  
  
his mind still buzzes with adrenaline but renjun misses the warmth.  
  
he checks in on jaemin, sending him a quick “u good?” he really can’t help but worry.  
  
**jaemin:** yeah yeah come down :p  
  
his fingers type out a snarky reply but renjun really can’t help but smile.  
  
he leans back against the concrete wall as he feels an autumn breeze brush past, watching his phone screen and waiting for jaemin’s reply.  
   
**jaemin:** </3  
  
renjun smiles again. he really can’t help it.  
  
soon enough, he hears soft footsteps. usually he’d be worried but in Reformation, doors unlock at 5am so unless the government was actually being competent enough to send the city guard after murderers, which was highly unlikely, there was only one person it could be.  
  
sure enough, renjun feels fingers pull at his sleeve and he is spun around, he sees smiling eyes and pink hair for a split second before he is pulled into a chaste kiss. renjun smiles despite himself.  
  
he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tube of lip balm. he breaks the kiss with a shake of his head and pushes the lip balm into jaemin’s palm. jaemin looks up at him with a betrayed look and renjun really can’t help but laugh. renjun finds he can’t quite help himself with a lot of things when it comes to jaemin.  
  
so renjun takes off running, jaemin’s hand still around his wrist. he interlocks their fingers. maybe its because he doesn’t want to get separated but maybe its because he just wants to hold his hand. maybe its because things just feel more right if jaemin’s hand is in his. renjun doesn’t dwell on it. its hard to get lost in your thoughts when an angel is running right beside you.  
  
renjun’s rifle bounces against his back as he runs but other than that, he doesn’t think much of what had transpired just minutes before. renjun’s thoughts are filled with _jaemin jaemin jaemin_ and jaemin’s thoughts are filled with _renjun renjun renjun_ so neither of them really have space in their minds to think about a dead man bleeding out on the streets.  
  
a mother lost a son that night but all renjun could think of was how jaemin’s lips were chapped but still warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHIPS so uh, yeah! if you've gotten this far then thank you uwu. that little scene in by the window was actually my inspiration for the whole thing. it was kind of the "the world is falling apart yet i feel safe in your arms" kind of thing. yeah so as always please do leave a comment! or hmu on twitter @renjunerest. :D i have 2 more chapters written so i was thinking i'd update daily until i exhaust content but i'm also not really loving chapter 3 and 4 so it might take a while more. but yes! as a wise man once said if you love me you'll give me feedback (im kidding im kidding) hope you have a great day :D thanks once again for reading (and long ass ANs)
> 
> also!! thank you to everyone who left kudos!! i love yall :'(


	3. 三

jaemin’s 253rd; second day of the eighth moon (cont.)  
  
they area where they lived was called the fields of asphodel. like in greek mythology, where average people went when they died. nothing special, no-one special. a mass of average people, not good enough and not bad enough. a field of people just existing, that's what it was supposed to be to the people within city bounds. it was ironic because of the three regions that made up the 18th district, people in asphodel were more alive than anywhere else. citizens of Ref too overworked, lives to structured and regulated to actually be considered living, while cultists south of the river probably had money instead of blood flowing through their veins.

asphodel was a cramped collection of unregulated buildings intersected by narrow streets and debris. the buildings were old and crumbling and leagues away from the state of the art architecture found south of the river or even the sterile blocks of Reformation (at least they had air purifiers in Ref.) they lived in what was supposed to be an apartment block but the units ended up being anything tenants wanted it to be, restaurants, brothels, cafes or even potion shops. seven years ago it stood within district 18 but then all of a sudden walls were erected, Old Town blown to pieces and Reformation erected in its stead, so asphodel was left outside of city bounds. close enough to the city to escape most of the radiation, but those on the fringes wore scarves around their faces.  
  
they lived in block 21, one of the blocks closest to the Wall. renjun and jaemin lived in on the twelfth floor with 5 other friends and the potion store they ran collectively was on the eleventh floor. donghyuck and jeno were mainly in charge of the store as donghyuck did the brewing and jeno grew most of the plants they needed. they were also two of only three in the group that had the Identification and Unit Transferral Implant (IDUT) ID implants in their wrists that let them give and receive payment. they were also two of only three in the group that were considered people in the eyes of the government.  
  
not that it mattered what the government thought. its not like they did jack shit anyways.  
  
chenle got a shelf to himself in the shop where he was allowed to sell his dark magic brews. though they limit him to one shelf they all knows chenle’s one shelf alone brings in a lot more money than the rest of the shop combined but necromancy tends to bring in people they are better off avoiding.  
  
jisung helped out with everything. he had a bit of an affinity for everything, unfairly good at almost all aspects of witchcraft.  
  
jaemin grew crystals and renjun was pretty good with potion brewing but the two weren’t at the shop as much.  
  
mark just does the accounting. (not because he’s not good at anything else, mark knew his way around the shop, he was just responsible. and all his friends were fools.)

 

 

 

  
jaemin and renjun had managed to catch the mark, jeno, jisung and donghyuck before they were to head down to the shop. the four were seated around the dining table picking at a plate of sad-looking scrambled eggs.  
  
“good god what are you eating?” renjun exclaims, dropping his rifle onto the sofa and pulling out a chair next to jeno at the dining table.  
  
“mark made breakfast.” jisung replies.  
  
“well he tried,” donghyuck raises an eyebrow, sipping on a mug of tea. he was pretending to refuse to eat the eggs but the forkful of scrambled egg resting at the edge of his half-empty plate didn’t quite help his case.  
  
mark makes an affronted noise, “i couldn’t find the spatula was okay, i wa-“  
  
“so he used chopsticks.” donghyuck interjects, “i walked into the kitchen as he was trying to scrape the eggs onto the plate with the chopsticks, it hurt to watch.”  
  
“okay so it looks ugly. and maybe it’s a little oily but it still tastes alright,” mark concedes, pouting a little. jeno giggles a little.  
  
“awwww its okay mark, thanks for making breakfast,” jaemin coos as he slides into the seat next to donghyuck. he grabs himself the forkful resting on donghyuck’s plate.  
  
jeno feeds renjun a bit of scrambled egg and he manages a mumbled “they taste alright” around the food in his mouth.  
  
they laugh at him but Mark’s Plate of Ugly Scrambled Eggs gets wiped clean by the end of breakfast anyways.

 

 

 

 

  
“i just realised, how do you not have a single drop of blood on you?” jeno suddenly asks, stopping in the middle of his tracks to shout up the stairs, “renjun i understand but jaemin?”  
  
the group was heading down to open shop, struggling a little with donghyuck’s supplies. or more like renjun and donghyuck were struggling with the large pot while the rest watched them from the bottom of the stairwell, each one carrying a large pot or sack equally as cumbersome.  
  
“i dropped the bullet in one of chenle’s blood freezing potions,” comes renjun’s reply. jeno hums in understanding.  
  
“speaking of chenle,” renjun continues, “he said he’d be back by- ah, hyuck left left left left left- by… what was i saying? ah yes, by 8 right?” the question is directed towards jisung but renjun and hyuck were having issues with the large vat between them. none of the other boys make any motion to help.  
  
“yeah probably. dark magic doesn’t work that well in the day.” jisung adjusts the sack full of herbs on his shoulder, “by the way why can’t we keep all of this in the shop?”  
  
“becau- oh shit- because i’ve started working on a mid-autumn festival special and i don’t want people stealing my stuff,” donghyuck replies, saving the vat nearly tipping over.  
  
with a lot of struggling (does not apply to anyone not named renjun or donghyuck) and a HYUCK THAT’S NOT LEFT the group makes it down to the shop without casualties but a lot of yelling.  
  
“i’m so tired, i bruised my knee,” renjun pouts, finally setting down the enormous vat outside the shop as mark fiddles with the lock on the door.  
  
“awww,” jaemin instantly drops his sack of herbs in the middle of the hallway, rushing over to renjun.  
  
jaemin wraps his arms around renjun’s waist. he won’t admit it but he’s tired too. both of them had been awake nearly twenty-four hours straight at this point. and though multiple all-nighters in a row were far from rare for the two, exhaustion was unfortunately familiar for them too.  
  
renjun stumbles back a little but steadies himself. the sun was rising. jaemin reverently appreciated the way morning light made renjun’s hair look even lighter. he appreciated the way soft light illuminated the way renjun’s eyes widened in shock for that split second. the moment is over a little too soon though.  
  
jisung, having not missed the entire exchange, rolls his eyes and picks up jaemin’s sack, making his way inside as mark finally manages to unlock the shop door.  
  
jeno meets jaemin’s eye and raises an eyebrow but smiles nonetheless, “you think you could negotiate for a bit of soonyoung’s garden in place of units again?” jeno’s question is directed at renjun.  
  
“hmm probably, it’d be easier of you came too though, i might screw up your moonshade again,” he replies, still leaning on jaemin.  
  
“yes, definitely. i distinctly remember asking you for nightshade, not moonshade. i’ll help them set up then i’ll head up later?”  
  
“yeah cool. we might need to take some units anyways”  
  
“jaemin?” jeno turns to ask. renjun pats jaemin’s head from where it rests on his shoulder.  
  
jaemin hums, chin resting on renjun’s shoulder, eyes closed.  
  
“i’m going to the cafe,” he mumbles.  
  
jeno and renjun both make a yikes-emotion sound. donghyuck is struggling with the pot once more and mark is trying to help him.  
  
“can’t stop me~” jaemin singsongs, cracking an eye open.  


 

 

 

  
jaemin and renjun part ways with a quick peck on the cheek and they each head their separate ways, renjun to the top floor and jaemin back up to the twelfth to Cafe Limitless. the tinkle of a wind-chime signals jaemin’s entry, though it goes unnoticed by an Even More Stressed-Looking Than Usual Doyoung (which jaemin didn’t really think was possible, frankly, but the way doyoung was collapsed over the counter with a beanie over his eyes and his head in his hands wearing an expression of abject misery slash complete and utter despair tells him otherwise) and a contrastingly cheerful yuta swinging his legs back and forth from his perch on top of the counter, a matching beanie resting on his head as he sips on an alarmingly pink drink. taeil, however looks up at the chime and smiles his trademarked Awkward Taeil Smile from the furthest possible position behind the counter from the other two.  
  
“hey jaemin! th-the usual…?” taeil asks with a Stressed Taeil Smile, as if he didn’t quite want to hear the answer.  
  
the query alerts doyoung to jaemin’s presence so before jaemin can reply he cuts in. “jaemin thank god save me from these heathens,” he cries out dashing out from behind the counter and grabbing onto jaemin’s shoulders. “i close my eyes for two, TWO seconds and i wake up with orange hair. ORANGE” he cries out, ripping off the beanie to reveal a head of bright orange hair.  
  
“they dyed your hair in your sleep?”  
  
“it looks good! orange is definitely your colour!”  
  
“orange is NOBODY’S colour yuta” doyoung laments, falling to his knees in the middle of the shop.

jaemin doesn't think doyoung looks that bad but he lets him have his moment.  
  
“okay look i dyed my hair too in solidarity!” yuta puts down the drink and pulls off the beanie, showcasing his purple hair.  
  
“yeah the difference is that you look _good_ ,” doyoung mumbles from the floor, pouting a little.  
  
as yuta tries to console doyoung, taeil places a cup of coffee on the counter a little hesitantly. he doesn’t quite meet jaemin’s eyes.  
  
“how many shots are in this?”

taeil takes a while to respond, “…th-three.”

“but taei-"  
  
“no” taeil doesn’t look at jaemin, busying himself trying to wipe down the already spotless countertop.

“please i-“  
  
“no”  
  
“i just-“  
  
“no”  
  
“taeil pleaseee,” taeil makes the mistake of making eye contact with jaemin, who pouts at him like his life depends on it.  
  
they hold eye contact for a stressful few seconds before taeil finally relents, adding in an extra five shots of espresso, though he looks a little like he’s about to cry.  
  
the doorbell chimes and four heads turn to watch jungwoo walk in.  
  
“oh is it seven already?” yuta asks, getting off the floor to retrieve his radioactively pink drink from the counter.  
  
“no its 7:34 i’m just late,” jungwoo replies with a small smile and a raise of an eyebrow, dropping his bag behind the counter. jungwoo was jaemin's favourite because it was much easier to convince him to make his signature 8 shot drink than it was the rest.  
  
“what are you drinking, by the way,” jaemin asks, eyeing the very pink drink yuta was sipping from.  
  
“so we were trying to come up with a mid-autumn special right? so me, having more than three braincells, suggests that we make the drink brown because mooncakes are brown and autumn equals falling leaves equals brown right? but noooo these fools here decide that brown is “a boring colour” but they couldn’t decide on a colour either so like all responsible, functioning adults do, we sat there in the backroom at 3 in the morning and spun the colour wheel. i’ll have you know i only accepted this compromise because taeil over here was threatening to put a pumpkin spiced latte on the menu.” doyoung punctuates his monologue with a lot of angry hand gestures.  
  
jaemin suspects an alternate (and more probable) reason why doyoung accepted the compromise was because he was in charge of food and didn’t actually make any of the drinks but jaemin elects to stay quiet about that.  
  
“what’s in it though?” jaemin asks.  
  
“butternut squash.” comes yuta’s reply, back on top of the counter.  
  
“i’m...i'm sorry what?”  
  
“it’s not that bad actually,” jungwoo holds out one of the pink drinks he had whipped up during doyoung’s soliloquy.  
  
jaemin takes a sip and to his horror, the drink actually tastes alright. cafe limitless had an uncanny way of making weird vegetable drinks actually taste good. it was in fact, a particularly delicious Avocado Strawberry Smash that had inspired donghyuck’s Zucchini Berry Bash from the week before, but donghyuck, unfortunately did not have yuta’s or jungwoo’s magic hands that could make even an Artichoke Cherry Bomb taste good.  
  
“how on earth do you make a butternut squash drink taste good?” jaemin asks, slightly perplexed.  
  
jungwoo and yuta wink simultaneously and whisper “magic” conspiratorially, though they all know jaemin is the only one in the room with any sort of affinity for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah there's a lot going on here and i don't know what i'm doing half the time i'm doing but i hope people are enjoying this! i spent a lot of time on a to z vegetables dot com for the cafe scene hdnshd. also in this world there is texting but no internet. (if you couldn't tell already this story is gonna have more plot conveniences than actual plot.) 
> 
> thank you so so so much to everyone who left kudos!! also can you tell? i'm very bad at world building. just for reference, i imagine asphodel to be a little like west block from no. 6 (the anime/manga/LN series) (the manga was my favourite. jus sayin.) but yes as always please do leave a comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter or this series in general, and if you want to yell at me or are willing to let me yell at you please hmu on twitter @renjunerest :D thanks for reading uwu hope you have a great day


	4. 四

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lower class in asphodel has texting but no access to internet or elevators. whoops. there are a shit ton of plot conveniences im sorry hsjdhjshfg please bear with it if you can :D
> 
> also!! i forgot but the characters are aged up here, just +3 to nct and +8 to svt. rv is just as is :D

renjun’s 253rd; second day of the eighth moon (cont.)  


the decor of the svt headquarters had a very distinct theme to it. they had bought out every unit on the top floor (because twenty one flights of stairs can be quite the inconvenience sometimes) and knocked down a few of the walls to crate one large, round room (somehow without compromising the building structure. hopefully.) bordered by a few smaller ones. they were able to do so because the landlord was shit-faced drunk all the time and didn’t actually care about the wellbeing of her tenants. the furniture was a weird mix of pop art and 14th century details, with gothic frescoes lining one wall and vibrant portraits of 30 year olds in leather pants on another.  
  
(renjun heard the interior designing process had consisted of a lot of rock paper scissors and a lot of despair-induced crying. jaemin largely left renjun to handle any interactions with them because “ _the damn place gives me vertigo_ ”.)  
  
one would hardly think such a place was the headquarters for an order of assassins.  
  
renjun reaches the front door. then he walks twelve paces down the hallway, fingers tapping lightly on the cracking paint until he reaches the panel where concrete met plywood. he knocks hard, eight times on the cleverly disguised panel, hearing the secret signal reverberate along the hollow board.  
  
five meters down the hallway, a man sticks his head out of the doorway. renjun spots the familiar locks of long black hair and smiles.  
  
“oh! renjun!”  
  
“hao-ge!,” renjun calls out in mandarin, holding up the vial of clear liquid he had nabbed from the shop before heading up.  
  
“ah, i’ll go set up then, come on in,” he calls out, holding the door open.  
  
  


  
renjun watches as jeonghan’s iridescent eyes flash, streaks of crimson feathering out in runes across the skin of his wrists and neck, feeding the scarlet rose on his neck until it seems to glow. no matter how many times renjun sees it, it never ceases to fascinate him. renjun almost misses it because it happens in an instant. almost too quick, all the energy drains from his body, eyes returning to their usual coffee brown. he flops backwards, exhausted and sticks a hand out of the circle. renjun rushes forward but minghao stops him and takes the vial from his hand. he then places the vial of clear liquid in his palm, remarking about how cold jeonghan’s hands were. jeonghan props himself up on one elbow and downs the liquid quickly.  
  
“liked the last one better,” jeonghan manages before flopping backwards again, kicking at the powder to break the circle and slowly rolling himself out of mess on the neon green carpeting.  
  
“so is hyuck or one of the others going to come up to receive the payment? or are you going to raid the garden again?” jihoon asks, spinning around in his swivel chair from his mahogany desk at the other end of the room as he cracks open the can of coke in his hand.  
  
renjun registers the three other empty coke cans sitting in the bin with a familiar sort of distress, reminding him a little too much of his own boyfriend’s questionable beverage choices. he notices how soonyoung, who had taken a break from his garden to watch jeonghan perform his ritual, wears a similar look of distress, the sound of another can of coke being cracked open an unfortunately familiar sound for him.  
  
“we’d like to raid the garden please,” renjun replies, smiling sweetly, already looking in soonyoung’s direction.  
  
“eighty units worth of herbs?” soonyoung asks, sounding slightly stressed  
  
“dock three units for making me take my consciousness on a trip to Ref since you two couldn’t just bring us the head like everyone else does” jeonghan mumbles from where he lay on the floor, an arm thrown over his face.  
  
“okay, but decapitation is hardly ever worth the effort. its gross and time-consuming and messy. no bang for your buck.” renjun pipes up  
  
“oh don’t lie jeonghan,” jihoon cuts in, “you love doing that, you’re always looking for an excuse to astral project” he tosses the can into the bin, pulls another one out and cracks it open.  
  
renjun shares a pained look with soonyoung. minghao looks on in mild amusement. jeonghan continues to lie on the floor.  
  
“astral projection is different,” jeonghan starts, propping himself up on one arm. “i don’t need to invoke- you know what? never mind,” jeonghan starts but cuts himself off, collapsing back down onto the ground.  
  


 

  
soon enough, jeno arrives at the top floor, only slightly breathless from the stairs. renjun was waiting for him in the hallway, knowing jeno likely forgot the entrance procedure. he half-listens as jeno and soonyoung discuss the plants, catching a “10 units for one sprig? isn’t that way too much?” and an “oh dear boy you don’t know what i had to go through for this one minuscule leaf,” occasionally, but otherwise tunes out the haggling.  
  
jeonghan and jihoon were bickering listlessly at the other side of the room, jihoon sorting through a stack of papers as he hurled insults at jeonghan who returned them from his position facedown on the carpet.  
  
renjun turns his attention to minghao, who is sitting on the arm of a grand, deep velvet armchair.  
  
“you’ve been well?” the question comes in mandarin.  
  
“the shop is doing great,” the reply is also spoken in mandarin.  
  
it comes much easier to renjun now than it did a few years ago. he has minghao to thank for that.  
  
“do you have dinner plans? my stupid husband made too much curry again” minghao smiles good-naturedly. “he still forgets sometimes.”  
  
he doesn’t finish.  
  
it’s a question but renjun doesn’t need to answer.  
  
and there’s that glint of sadness in his eyes. it’s less bitter than it used to be, less anguished and more resigned.  
  
renjun doesn’t miss it though. the man had practically raised him, he knew what minghao looked like when he cried.  
  
“it’s almost the solstice,” renjun says, almost a whisper.  
  
“89 days.” that’s all minghao has to say.  
  
renjun doesn’t push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was like, "almost done" for three days but i kept getting distracted so this chapter is much shorter but i have like 4k of backstory and flashbacks so yeah. that's a thing that's going to be happening eventually. i'm also really bad at world building but i'm trying i swear.
> 
> but yes!! sorry for the wait for anyone that's following this series, and!! thank you to everyone who left kudos!! i hope people are enjoying it so far!! do let me know what you think of the world or if you have any questions about this world or any speculations feel free to leave a comment :D
> 
> <3


	5. 五

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw?? for self-harm? kind of? its a ritualistic thing not a mental health thing but thought i should mention it just in case

  
by the time jeno jaemin and renjun get back to the shop chenle had returned from his seancing escapade.  
  
(they know this because the three could hear his characteristic voice from down the hallway.)  
  
the interior of the potion store was rather quaint, with rustic furniture they’d picked up off of the streets giving the shop a homely feel to it. besides shelves of potions, the store had armchairs and love-seats scattered around, one of which a Stressed-Looking Mark was sitting on, head in his hands.  
  
jaemin feels a faint sense of deja vu.  
  
they had walked into the store at a decidedly inopportune time, in the middle of Potion-Naming Discourse.  
  
“can i be in charge of naming the potions? can i PLEASE be in charge of naming the potions?” chenle is following donghyuck around, as the latter tries to restock the shelves.  
  
jisung was tending to the vats in the back, probably glad to escape the chaos outside.  
  
“first and foremost you have one shelf. i do most of the brewing so i’m in charge and i say no. second of all, you’d name them some sort of horrendous crap like _draught of the blind_ or _tendrils of midnight_ and i’m in charge and i say no” donghyuck pushes past chenle, unfortunately used to his hovering presence.  
  
“well? what’s wrong with that? its _poetic_ ,” chenle emphasises, making a grand hand gesture at ‘poetic’.  
  
“its disgusting and cringey that’s what it is,” donghyuck shoots back while restocking a shelf.  
  
“okay yeah like _shatter_ or _rejuvenate_ is so much better? at least tendrils of midnight doesn’t sound like a fucking moisturiser” renjun cuts in, flopping onto mark’s lap.  
  
jaemin and jeno settle themselves behind the counter, wisely not getting involved in the discussion. mark just looks tired.  
  
“shatter is simple and to the point. you drink it and you explode,” donghyuck says simply, as if bestowing the knowledge of enlightenment unto the mortal heathens.  
  
“you see, shatter isn’t really the best verb to describe exploding. if you wanted one word, a better one would have been, i don’t know, explode?” renjun says from mark’s lap. he hums a little as mark runs his fingers through dyed blonde hair.  
  
_goddamnit he’s so cute_ jaemin’s brain supplies in typical jaemin-brain fashion.  
  
“maybe unclench your fists,” jeno remarks, raising an eyebrow at jaemin before he begins sorting through papers.  
  
“explode just doesn’t sound as nice,” donghyuck reasons, putting down his clipboard  
  
“okay and you come for me for trying to be poetic?” chenle protests.  
  
“looks like it’s time for a VOTE!” donghyuck proclaims, with a loud clap.  
  
ah, the dreaded Vote. where lines are drawn in the sand, where friendships shatter in an instant and where pride is put on the line.  
  
jisung had emerged from the backroom with an armful of herbs but upon hearing the dreaded v-word, he instantly turns on his heels and shuts the door with his feet.  
  
there’s the rustling of herbs being put down and then a click of a lock. they all know a lock wouldn’t stop any of them, especially not the crappy backroom lock, but jaemin supposes its the thought of it more than anything.  
  
“vote vote vote vote vote vote vote” chenle begins chanting, punctuating each word with a clap.  
  
jeno gets up and moves over to the now-locked door. “jisung let me in,” he knocks.  
  
“we’re dealing with a Vote here, jeno its every man for himself.” jisung replies through the door, voice muffled somewhat by the door.  
  
mark had seemed perfectly content with renjun on his lap earlier but at the mention of the v-word he is now desperately trying to remove renjun in an attempt to leave the room before The Vote is initiated. renjun had simply been resting on mark’s lap earlier, but now he’s gripping on tightly to mark’s waist, somehow keeping them both securely on the floral-patterned couch. “vote vote vote vote vote vote vote” renjun begins, a smile slowly but surely working its way onto his face despite his eyes still being closed.  
  
jaemin, watching everything, could pinpoint the exact moment mark gave up fighting and accepted his fate, leaning back onto the sofa and closing his eyes with a deep, long-suffering exhale.  
  
“i vote hyuck,” donghyuck says, raising his hand. his clipboard rests on one of the shelves, long forgotten in the wake of far more interesting developments.  
  
“i vote lele,” renjun cracks one eye open, raising a finger.  
  
“i also vote me,” chenle raises his hand and struts over to the sofa, shoving renjun’s legs off to sit on the couch.  
  
renjun makes an affronted noise as he is thrown off of the couch.  
  
“okay well hyuck’s wannabe spa day suddenly sounds a lot better,” he scoffs, picking himself up and stalking over to where jaemin sits on the countertop.  
  
“nononononononononononono ge i’m sorry come back,” chenle immediately leaps to  
 his feet, desperately trying to pull renjun back onto the sofa.  
  
“it’s too late the damage has been done,” donghyuck yells out gleefully, “its 2:1!” he cries, pointing a finger at chenle.  
  
“JISUNGGG,” chenle calls out, desperately looking for support. he makes his way behind the counter and starts working on the lock.  
  
“i vote not chenle,” he calls back, pulling the door open just as chenle gets it open, only to shut it tight after his declaration, locking it once more.  
  
“snakes. every last one of them,” chenle mutters, dragging his feet back to the sofa and dropping himself unceremoniously into mark’s lap.  
  
_mark’s lap is quite the hotspot_ , jaemin notes.  
  
“i vote chenle just to even things out,” jeno speaks quickly.  
  
jaemin pauses.  
  
he sees as mark’s eyes light up, the cogs in his brain starting to turn. their eyes meet and a sort of panic-laced understanding passes between them.  
  
“ME TOO I VOTE CHENLE,” jaemin yells, before heaving a sigh of relief.  
  
mark makes a sound of anguish, before dropping his head onto chenle’s back, mumbling a “good lord why me” into the black polo tee.  
  
“vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote,” they all begin to chant. even jisung had emerged from the backroom to partake in the mark-bullying.  
  
“mark i’ll go down to the market and buy aunty lee’s mooncakes back for you. double yolk.”  
  
“fine. i vote hyuck,” he mumbles into the back of chenle’s shirt. the declaration is muffled, likely by design.  
  
donghyuck releases a loud whoop, celebrating his capitalist win by picking up his clipboard once more and ticking one (1) box with a lot of flourishing hand movements. chenle, on the other end of the room, falls off the sofa and onto the ground in mock despair. (or real despair, who knows.)  
  
  
  
a while later, the wind chime at the door sounds.  
  
“morning,” a sweet voice lilts, accompanied by locks of greyish-blue hair swishing into the shop before the owner did.  
  
mark was still stuck on the sofa near the entrance, because jaemin had decided he also wanted to rest his head on the prime real estate that was mark’s lap while waiting for renjun to find that one potion he was looking for.  
  
“is chenle here?” minkyung waltzes into the room, a pair of black heels clicking on the wooden floors.  
  
minkyung worked with the headquarters as one of their most requested runners. she worked very closely with hq, thus ended up helping out with a lot of potion delivery and retrieval.  
  
chenle, was in fact there, currently in charge of the counter. jeno was in the back room tending to his garden while jisung sorted out papers. donghyuck was probably in the back brewing working on his mid-autumn festival line-up.  
  
chenle squeaks and scrambles up, rushing over to the door but renjun is faster. he pokes his head out from behind a shelf, question evident in his expression.  
  
“minkyung? are you here for hq? do they need more… o-or is it…” he trails off but minkyung nods.  
  
“but it’s only the second?” something clicks inside him but renjun doesn’t quite like it.  
  
chenle, having stumbled over, pulls out a small black pouch and hands it over to minkyung. “here,” he says as he pulls mark’s arm out from where it’s currently stuck under jaemin’s arm and brandishes it for minkyung.  
  
mark watches, slightly lost as minkyung hovers her wrist over his and 120 units get transferred over to him. he balks for a while at the number, a hundred and twenty? for that one small vial? renjun on the other hand is significantly quicker on the uptake.  
  
“chenle isn’t he supposed to take it every fifteenth? it’s only the second why di-“ renjun trails off.  
  
chenle and minkyung share a look and with a smile, she walks right out of the shop.  
  
the second the door closes, chenle starts weaving his way around shelves and display tables, back towards the counter, renjun hot on his tails. jaemin seemed to have fallen asleep on his lap so mark makes to go after them but jaemin is clingy when he’s asleep. (or he’s not asleep and just knows something mark doesn’t.)  
  
chenle pulls open the door to the backroom, rolling his sleeves down quickly but renjun doesn’t miss the small red lines decorating his forearms. the backroom is relatively large, with space for storage and both jeno’s garden and donghyuck’s brewing station. the two were nowhere to be seen.  
  
renjun starts, “chenle-”  
  
chenle sighs. “im _fine_ ” he rolls his eyes “with the cultists out and about they’re... minghao hasn’t— _i’m fine_ renjun. really”  
  
“minghao hasn’t?” alarm bells start going off in renjun’s head.  
  
‘nothing. he- nothing.” chenle flails his hands around, turning away from renjun, but also bringing focus back to the red star on his forearm.  
  
“chenle look, jaemin can always grow more crystals it doesn’t need to be-“ renjun tries to reason but chenle cuts him off.  
  
“do you know how powerful it is? look at this.” chenle pulls his sleeve up roughly, revealing the small red star carved into the skin of his forearm, “one rune. ONE. and i prepared an entire YEARS worth of sunrise in advance. a WHOLE YEAR. and i have more than enough bases left in case you accidentally take jaemin’s arm off trying to land one of your crazy shots.”  
  
the room goes quiet. dead silent. renjun closes his eyes.  
  
_breathe renjun breathe_  
  
he hears a chime go off in the distance and mark’s voice as he attends to whichever customer had just walked  
  
there is a faint buzzing in his ear. renjun can pinpoint the exact moment things start to shut down. its like he’s looking at everything from a distance.    
  
he unclasps and re-clasps the bracelet on his wrist then raises his wrist to his neck and lets the crystal clam him.  
  
chenle lowers his voice to a sharp whisper. “i’m not going to apologise. you know the both of you have issues and maybe your aim has never failed you but you’re only human. and jaemin may have it worse than you but at least he admits it. at least he’s working on it but you? you and your pride get in the way and one of these days you might just end up-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes losing their fire.  
  
renjun thinks back to earlier when chenle made an appearance as his voice of reason.  
  
“i think i need a nap,” renjun’s voice shakes a little as he turns around slowly, a mask of calm muffling the screaming in his mind, like a thin layer of film holding in a bubbling mess of writhing worm soup.  
  
chenle sinks to the floor, head in his hands. he sighs, dejectedly mumbling a “sleep well,” as the door is closed a little too gently for his liking.  
  
renjun weaves around aisles and tables, back to the front where mark is attending to a customer and jaemin is suspiciously awake. their eyes meet and jaemin gets up without a further word, following renjun out of the shop.  
  
in the hallway jaemin takes his hand, but chenle’s word burn in renjun’s mind. jaemin doesn’t ask as renjun speed-walks up the stairs. he watches as renjun fumbles a bit with the crystal around his neck, holding it to the door, trying to will the door to unlock faster. he keeps holding his hand.  
  
when he finally gets the door open, he haphazardly toes his shoes off and walks straight into their shared bedroom, collapsing into the sheets while dragging jaemin down with him.  
  
renjun makes an undignified grunt as jaemin wraps his arms around him, rearranging them into a more comfortable position. renjun presses his face into jaemin’s chest, eyes already beginning to close. jaemin cards his fingers through renjun’s hair, relishing in the way he hums in satisfaction. jaemin is also tired, they’re both exhausted, but he wants to savour, for just a little longer, the way renjun's hair smells like chamomile and lemon balm and the way mid-morning sunlight makes him look just that much more ethereal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS MINGHAO DAY!!!!! ITS 
> 
> M I N G H A O D A Y
> 
> (also yes pristin is in this im gonna plug all my faves you can't stop me)
> 
> as usual, i've no idea what im doing so WHIPS yeah i update daily for like four days then disappear for a month rip i swear i didn't forget about this i just have. more backstory than actual story that i have to figure out how to weave into this but! as always thanks for reading, i hope you like it and do let me know what you think!! :D


	6. 六

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for blood and more ritualistic self harm and knives...? i should probably update the tags hedhe
> 
> also this chapter is a bit different bc!! time to start fucking shit up!! i hope i know what im doing rip but yes more of nct next chapter (also there are ocs this chapter but they aren't too significant)
> 
> also do let me know if you want me to keep to a regular updating schedule? bc right now i just write whenever i'm inspired (which is thankfully a lot) and thus post pretty erratically. yahee : D

  
its 6:54pm. the sun has begun to set.  
  
outside city boundaries of the eighteenth district, two boys sleep soundly, curled up in each others’ warmth. evening lights spills into the room, the blinds left wide open from hours ago. but neither of them rouse.  
  
they sleep- soundly, peacefully.  
  
they are roused by neither the soft light illuminating their faces, nor the crackling static from the living room outside.  
  
  
  
  
  
a television set sits outside in the empty living room, playing a loop of the same video, like it has been for little under an hour now.  
  
the television flashes.  
  
then there’s static.  
  
_fuck fuck fuck fuck OH MY GOD okay okay okay okay_  
  
there’s a woman on screen. she’s huddled into a corner. there’s flickering light from a small candle illuminating her face but otherwise the room seems dark.  
  
_lee baby i love you i leave everything to you, i’m so sorry for what i said yesterday i didn’t mean it i swear i was just angry i swear lee baby im so sorry. you mean more to me than anything else and that will never change okay?_  
  
she’s shaking. crying. her blonde hair is matted and messy, sticking to her face in clumps from sweat? tears?  
  
_lee baby i love you and i always will please remember that._  
  
she’s barely manages the sentence between choked sobs. the woman goes silent for a while.  
  
_en?_  
  
she looks beyond the camera, cocking her head a little  
  
_mummy i love you_.  
  
it’s a whisper. a different shaky voice.  
  
_ming- no give me that she’d want to see your face- i, no i’ll just hold it then i won’t touch anything._  
  
theres a bit of fumbling but the camera changes hands .  
  
_hand me the candle_.  
  
a now-offscreen hand passes the small tea light over to this new woman- ming en?  
  
_mummy i love you, thank you for raising me and thank you for all you’ve done for me and i’m sorry you have to see this._  
  
she isn’t crying yet but her eyes have lost focus. she’s looking off to the side, mind lost to her memories. her black hair sits in two twin braids, but the band on one has snapped.  
  
_a-and i… we had… we had a birthday surprise planned for you. ming xi and i. i mean it’s not a surprise anymore…_  
  
she chokes out a laugh. an ugly, bitter laugh.  
  
_and i’m so fucking stupid i should have just let xixi keep the gift because now you probably will never get it and i’m so fucking stupid mummy i’m so sorry, we really-_  
  
and then there’s yelling in the background. screaming.  
  
_she squeezes her eyes shut and her face goes white. offscreen there’s a soft, trembling plea._  
  
_please… oh god please please please please please-_  
  
a string of words fall from lips offscreen, a mess of incoherent begging.  
  
her eyes open, a newfound determination clawing its way through fear-stricken, shaking pupils. she speaks over the guttural screaming in the background.  
  
_we found it. mummy we found ah ma’s bracelet. twenty-one of the beads are fine but the last one was broken in half. right down the middle. i have it here._  
  
with one hand still precariously balancing the tea light filled with now-melted wax, ming en pulls out a jade bracelet from her pocket and slips it on her wrist. she then unwraps a small black cloth to reveal two halves of a jade bead split almost perfectly down the center. she holds one half up to the camera.  
  
_its just as you thought._  
  
with that she falls silent. there’s a sickening thud and the screaming outside stops. her eyes wrench shut, her face contorting in pain. she opens her eyes and where there was once desperation the light in her eyes is replaced with defeat. resignation. despair.  
  
wordlessly, she sets down the candle and reaches out for the camera. there’s less fumbling this time and the woman from before comes into view.  
  
_hold it, jen. for luck._  
  
ming en places the broken halves of the jade bead in the other woman, jen’s, hand. she raises an eyebrow.  
  
_thanks en. here’s to wishing i get stabbed to death like your grandmother did._  
  
it’s mean but ming en doesn’t seem affronted.  
  
_honestly? i’d rather that than get sacrificed at the hands of these cultist freaks._  
  
jen is silent.  
  
_true._  
  
jen pauses.  
  
_i’m sorry i shouldn’t have said that._  
  
_it’s okay._  
  
_still-_  
  
_it’s fine. i wasn’t kidding. it’d be a better way to go._  
  
they both pause. the screaming starts again.  
  
it resonates eerily throughout the empty living room.  
  
on screen, jen smiles mirthlessly.  
  
_i, jennifer grace miller, will die here in #203 Southriver on the second day of the eighth moon. let it be that i don’t die in vain._  
  
the camera switches hands again.  
  
_guess this is where it ends huh? I’m about to die so i get to pretend that we died heroes, not stupid fucking fools who thought they could do something._  
  
_don’t say that._  
  
_it’s true._

there's a pause.  
  
_xixi, live and be free. i love you._  
  
she pulls a stick of charcoal out of her pocket and hands it to jennifer. jennifer speaks from off-screen.  
  
_no way charcoal runes are going to work._  
  
jennifer pulls something out and ming en’s eyes widen in incredulity.  
  
_jen- are you kidding me? blood magic??? have you lost your mind?_  
  
_we’re about to DIE. better we take a few down with us._  
  
for a while, she just stares.  
  
_…fine._  
  
the camera switches hands and jennifer starts.  
  
but something is wrong.  
  
the magic doesn’t take.  
  
and now there are footsteps.  
  
_jen hurry please-_  
  
its a frantic whisper.  
  
_its not working, i can’t-_  
  
_jen jen jen jen jen jen please oh god please hurry up i can HEAR THEM._  
  
_I CAN TOO, ITS NOT TAKING-_  
  
_I CAN TELL._  
  
the camera is on the floor now, filming a dirty corner of the room, a single drop of water trailing down the wall.  
  
the room is silent save for laboured breathing. save for small noises of pain. save for knife breaking skin.  
  
save for deafening footsteps getting louder and louder.  
  
save for a knife being thrown to the ground.  
  
_fuck they’ve warded the place._  
  
_goddamn, disgusting, bloody FUCKING HYPOCRITES_  
  
_fuck, en what do we do what do we-_  
  
_there’s nothing to do we just wait._  
  
_fuck._  
  
there’s a loud crash and the room is filled with jarringly bright artificial light.  
  
and there’s a sickening scream.  
  
and the feed cuts.  
  
now there's just static.

 

 

 

 

still, soundly they sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! idk what i doing famsquad someone pls yell @ me on twt @renjunerest i have so many ideas for this world just floating around pls yell at me whips.
> 
> but yes! big big big thank you to everyone who left kudos and i hope yall are enjoying this :DD
> 
> idk man the white name is from a name generator and i looked through my school yearbooks from like eight years ago for the chinese name (bears zero resemblance this is 100% fiction) idk famsquad i didn't want to just use some random idols (and no way in hell im killing anyone in pristin i love my bbs) (also!!! happy siyeon day!!) (stan pristin to win at life!!) (that's a lie pledis forgot they exist we are starving) (anyways) 
> 
> pls do leave a comment and let me know what you think or even if you have any questions about this world or even if you just want to scream. i also to scream. pls scream @ me (@cynicysmic on twt :D)
> 
> rip all my a/ns are Major League Mess thanks famses whips appreciatively


	7. 七

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. im back yes. i wanted to get this out on chenle's birthday or even just november, really) for the ult birthday trend i had managed thus far for the month of november. but life happened and i was busy and stuff so that kinda threw a wrench in the works. i think i want to go for three updates a month? that's my goal for now :D another reason why this one took so long is bc i wrote like 4k bc i kept adding scenes so i'm gonna upload the next bit tomorrow (finger guns) also i ahve. even more backstory now. still trying to figure out a way to work most of it in but (wiggles eyebrows) somethingscomingsoon ;}

renjun awakes to the sound of crashing.  
  
he’d have been more alarmed if he didn’t also awake to the sight of a damp jaemin haphazardly wrapped in a towel complaining about soap while simultaneously dripping water onto the floor.  
  
“we’re out of geranium leaf body soap.” jaemin says with a desperate light in his eyes that would typically suggest circumstances far more dire.  
  
renjun makes some indiscernible noise and rolls over, managing an “i’m so tired” before burying himself under blankets.  
  
“junnie get up come on, dinner is in a few hours plus we need to un-fuck our sleeping schedule at some point,” jaemin shakes the renjun-shaped blanket lump a little (still dripping wet) before completely throwing himself onto renjun (still dripping wet.)  
  
renjun releases an extremely dignified NOT shriek and squirms around until jaemin falls off the bed. he sits up, legs crossed and glares the best he can at jaemin while still half asleep.  
  
“i will strangle you in your sleep.”  
  
jaemin only hums in reply, smiling as he presses a (damp) kiss to renjun’s forehead and heads back towards the bathroom. a now slightly soggy renjun stares despairingly at the puddles of water trailing out the door for a while. he heaves a long suffering sigh before kicking the duvet off of the bed, figuring it was about time it was washed anyways. he steps onto the blanket and slowly slides his way out of the room, across the various puddles left by one pink-haired boy a few minutes earlier.  
  
confused, he eyes the static on the television as it flickers for a while.

and before the video can loop again, renjun turns the set off.  
  
by the time renjun had managed to locate the laundry basket in his half-asleep haze, jaemin had emerged from the bathroom, significantly less wet this time.  
  
“there’s a silver lining to every cloud, my hair looks nicer when i don’t shampoo it. there’s more volume so it’s fluffier almost.”  
  
renjun stares at jaemin blankly. “do you mean to say… you didn’t wash your hair?”  
  
jaemin gasps, “i’m not some type of vagrant that would use body wash as shampoo! who do you take me for? and i’ve learnt the hard way not to touch hyuck’s things one too many times.”  
  
renjun blanches, “are you kidding me?”  
  
“nope,” jaemin grins, popping the p. “plus, i really like this shade of pink, its my favourite so far so it’s great that i can have it for longer!” he bounces a little on his feet.  
  
renjun has to admit that this shade of pink has also been his favourite shade thus far but he can’t quite decide if it was worth it or not. he considers it for almost ten seconds before giving up.  
  
“it’s too early for this,” he sighs, heading towards the shower himself.  
  
“its 7:30. at night.” jaemin replies while reaching out for renjun’s wrist. he manages to unclasp the bracelet and get the thin band off easily, having done it many times before.  
  
renjun absently hums in acknowledgement before shutting the door.

 

  
  
as renjun showers, jaemin makes his way over to the little storage room he had commandeered for his crystals. chenle calls it the Crystal Cave. ("like a a mancave but instead of sports, jaemin likes stones." "they're NOT STONES, THEY'RE-")

the room is filled top to bottom with various cardboard boxes or other containers, stacked on shelves, on top of other boxes or even just left on the floor. (whatever precious floorspace he had.) he picks his way over containers and haphazardly strewn scraps to retrieve a small black box. this one is a little more sturdy than most of the others in the room as it contains the small ceramic dishes with his enchanted sugar crystals. when he opens the box, he notes the amount of solution he has left and makes a mental note to either risk asking jeno for more third district spearmint sprigs or to steal them himself and hope the theft goes unnoticed.

  
the third district was the best (and sometimes only) place to find certain magical ingredients. the northern mountains where the district was situated (along with the first and second) was undoubtedly one of the best places to find magical herbs growing wild. jeno often lamented how the taiga forests of the fourth and fifth districts, the most magically fertile regions known, were plagued by blood magic, tribal mages and ritual human sacrifices, among other pleasant things such as the vicious amber wolves and bloodthirsty shadow beasts.

 

jaemin pulls out the small diamond blade he keeps in the same box and carefully shaves off two fragments of the crystal. he reaches over to the opposite shelf and pulls out a vial of shimmery pink liquid. the sheer makes it look almost metallic, and it swirls about within the confines of the glass. jaemin lets the two fragments slide into the vial carefully before corking it.  
  
he holds the vial tight in his hands and focusses on a specific memory. almost instantly, the vial cools to nearly freezing temperatures but he holds on. the glimmer is drained from the liquid and sucked into the crystals. within seconds, jaemin is left with two shimmering pink crystals floating in a clear, pale orange solution.  
  
he uncorks the bottle and transfers one into renjun’s bracelet, taking care not to touch the crystal. then, he pops the other crystal straight into his mouth.  
  
he sees late morning sunlight and he feels renjun’s warm body in his arms, his shoulder on his chin. he hears the voices of his friends in the background but mostly, he sees renjun’s beautiful eyes and the way they widen ever so slightly. it feels like it’s happening in slow motion. clouds part in the sky and the warm rays of the sun hit renjun’s face just right. renjun’s hair looks shades lighter in the sunlight, and oh he glows. his beauty glows.  
  
all too soon its over, only an aftertaste of sweetness remains on his tongue.  
  
that too, soon fades.  
  
  
  
  
  
dinner with minghao went as it usually did. very loud but very fun. no plates were broken this time because they had finally learnt their lesson and minghao had replaced all breakable china with plastic cutlery. jeonghan had already begun dropping hints about birthday presents.  
  
(“goddamnit jeonghan there’s still thirty days to your birthday. you aren’t being subtle, i hope you realise.”  
  
“its 24 days, actually, and it doesn’t matter. i still want the oil burner blend from JJ Aromatics. the spearmint, sage an-“  
  
“and rosemary leaf one. yes. we heard you the first thirty times.”)  
  
  
  
  
  
donghyuck, mark, renjun and jaemin were headed back downstairs, slightly stuffed from dinner when they ran into yuta.  
  
(jisung, jeno and chenle had missed dinner to stay back at the shop.)  
  
“so i’m headed back to the shop and the three of you are going home right?” mark asks the others when they stop at the stairwell.  
  
“yeah, i’ll go grab the laundry from the eighth floor, and- oh… yuta?” donghyuck replies, noticing the man speed-walk towards them.  
  
“hey guys! jaemin, do you think you could come with me?” yuta calls out, brisk-walking down the hallway towards them.  
  
“uh, to the cafe?” jaemin asks, slightly puzzled.  
  
“uh… no. well, yes, first but uh… down to the… to the f-fringe,” yuta replies, looking a little fidgety.      
  
“wait aren’t you supposed to be on shift soon?” mark interjects, already halfway up the stairs.  
  
“i think the more pressing issue would be why on earth yuta is going to the fringe?” jaemin points out.  
  
“i’m meeting a friend. an old friend from the fourteenth,” yuta replies, eyes guarded.  
  
“the fourteenth district?”  
  
“yeah.”  
  
“woah.”  
  
“okay cool, but uhh, i have to sort some stuff out back at the shop. goodnight but good luck!” mark makes his way back up to the twelfth floor with a smile and an encouraging thumbs up.

"how do you know this friend though? you're from the thirteenth, right?" donghyuck asks.

"back then it wasn't about districts. it was about warlocks and power. your friends were the ones that wouldn't gut you for money."  
  
  
yuta himself, wasn’t native to the eighteenth district. yuta was from the thirteenth district, born during the civil unrest that plagued the thirteenth and fourteenth districts. he had shown up at the fringe of the eighteenth one day, seven years back where college students doyoung and taeil had been looking for sandflowers. he had been skinny and weak when they decided to take him in, guarded and wary. now, a few years later, yuta was here, happy, perfectly alive and well, working in a cafe (and taking years off of doyoung’s lifespan).  
  
and, looking to go back to the fringe, for whatever god-forsaken reason.  
  
“why do you want me to come down though? doyoung- actually yeah no,” jaemin pauses. “I’m sure jungwoo would go if you asked.”  
  
“he’s gone back to southriver, his father summoned him. plus, i thought it would be good for you to meet this friend. at first i was just gonna bring him to meet you but since you’re here and have your way with knives i was wondering if you could just come with? i’d definitely feel safer with you there.”  
  
jaemin considers this. the fringe wasn’t a place people went alone, frequented by savages and bandits from what used to be the thirteenth and fourteenth districts looking for wallets to pick and bags to raid. he was better when there were balconies to hang from and walls to hide behind but that by no means meant he couldn’t hold his own out in the open. sure, it wasn’t the most familiar for him but jaemin is a far cry from being bad when it came to anything involving him and his knives.

  
plus, it sounded fun. who would he be to turn down the thrill?

  
he becomes more aware of the sheathed blade in his boot. he feels the presence of the small knife he always keeps on him. (he had kept his usual twin blades back at home for it tended not to be the best manners to bring a knife to a dinner party.)  
  
jaemin can’t help but feel a tad bit of excitement.  
  
“sure. i’ll come,” jaemin decides.

he looks at renjun who, without so much as missing a beat declares his own decision.  
  
“then i’m coming too,” renjun says resolutely.  
  
donghyuck eyes the two of them. to yuta, they seem to having an entire conversation, communicated through raised eyebrows and half-frowns alone.  
  
with a final cock of the head, donghyuck turns away from the both of them. he bids yuta a goodnight and sets off down the stairwell.  
  
“well. uh. the more the merrier!” yuta hums. “we agreed on sunrise of the third of the eighth. do you think you two could drop by the cafe an hour or so before?”

and with a few goodbyes exchanged, yuta heads up to the cafe and the two head down to go back home.

"there goes unfucking our sleeping schedule i guess," jaemin laughs a little, slinging an arm around renjun's shoulder.

"i do i hope i can get a bit of sleep before we go out. a nap, hopefully." renjun says, leaning into the touch.

jaemin hums in response.

"i say hopefully, but it's probably not going to happen."

"unfortunately, i think you're right."

(they were right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (haha 10k but its all in the same one day) (this is the most ive ever written ever) (i might write the dinner scene and post it separately as an extra, let me know if y'all would want that hehe)
> 
> i'm Bad Bad at worldbuilding but istg i'm trying hdsbsbdhs. i've been reading more scifi lately to try and work on that :D but yes. i've drawn a map of the world and written descriptions for all of the districts but for now i want to try and incorporate that into the story first (but i may give up and just post it in a docs or on twitter or something.) (also idk how to add the map) but! yes! thank you so much for the comments last time they really made me smile and i hope you guys continue to enjoy this! sorry for long ass a/ns! do let me know what you think :D love yall <3
> 
> also. yeah. i get terminology from minecraft what r u gonna do about it :}


	8. 八

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: ya next chapter coming tomorrow  
> me, 4 days later: h-haha.... funny story... haha... h-haha....

a little later, renjun sits himself down at the dining table opposite where donghyuck was busy folding laundry.  
  
the house was quiet, a rare occurrence. mark and jeno were still in the store, jeno tending to his garden and mark sorting out administrative work. jaemin had locked himself in his Crystal Cave (as referred to by donghyuck).  
  
moonlight shone in through the open window in the living room, soft rays of moonlight illuminating the living room. a bit of moonlight spilled over onto the dining table but donghyuck had moved his orchid lamp out of his bedroom for a little more light. the orchid lamp was a beautiful painted glass ornament that he and jisung had stolen from cafe limitless a few months back, the place full of trinkets and decorations “for aesthetic purposes” as doyoung had insisted.  
  
it was only blown glass until donghyuck had managed to find a way to get one of his potions in the glass, thus now it lights up whatever colour he wants.  
  
“hyuck, do we have any extra masks?” renjun asks, pulling out a chair and making absolutely no move to help with the laundry.  
  
donghyuck doesn’t even look up when answering.  
  
"i have a few extra moisturising melon and soothing strawberry ones. don't use the rejuvenating raspberry ones though they're my favourite."  
  
“what? no, i mea-“ renjun tries to interject but donghyuck continues on.  
  
"the label is in japanese but there are pictures so you've no excuse if you use my raspberry facial masks.” he emphasises his words by patting one of chenle’s polo tees.  
  
“no- i… i meant like breathing masks.”  
  
donghyuck looks up from the laundry but continues folding a pair of chenle’s pants.  
  
“hyuck. we’re going to the fringe. you were there, don’t do this.”  
  
donghyuck’s hands still. he looks up from the khakis and levels a strange look at renjun.  
  
“you’re really going?”  
  
“yes.”  
  
“renjun, i really don’t think-“  
  
“hyuck. please.”  
  
donghyuck regards him for a while.  
  
he sighs.  
  
“jisung might have some in the- wait actually no that wouldn’t make sense. he definitely would have had some from when he lived down at the market way back when but it wouldn’t make sense for him to have any now…” donghyuck trails off, picking up where he had left off with the khakis.  
  
“do you really need to fold those pants so intricately?” renjun asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“well, first off, i don’t see you folding any laundry, and secondly, it is my duty as a living entity with eyeballs to make these pants look as little like the atrocity they are wherever possible.” he finishes with a flourish, the controversial leg wear folded into a long, thin rectangle.  
  
“evening losers,” the front door clicks shut and jisung strolls up to the dining table, pulling out a chair right next to donghyuck. he too, makes no move to help with the laundry.  
  
“oh, just nice i need to ask you something,” renjun tries to get jisung’s attention but jisung was busy trying to change the colour of the orchid light.  
  
donghyuck was the one who had brewed the potion so naturally it would respond to his emotions, but jisung had an affinity for magic like no one the rest had ever met before. watching jisung was sometimes like something out of a story, a tale from generations ago, a fantasy of a hero. truth be told, it was likely he could have easily gotten into the fancy academies of the first district or, if he trained hard enough, even the Mage Keeps of the second.  
  
but jisung never quite liked the cold, boats to the north were expensive and the waters of the Dividing Sea were treacherous and wild. 

 

 

  
renjun watched with one eyebrow raised as the lamp flickered between purple and orange, hyuck maintaining steady eye contact with the glass while jisung looks through the folded laundry for his own clothes.  
  
the lamp finally settles on orange.  
  
“NO!” donghyuck cries out, collapsing into his chair. jisung tries to take advantage of his victory but almost instantly, donghyuck slams his hand onto a shirt jisung was trying to slide towards himself muttering, “this is mine, bitch,” while glaring up at him from his seat.  
  
it’s silent for a while as jisung slides the shirt back into the pile.  
  
“okay so as i was saying,” renjun starts just as the front door is slammed open and chenle waltzes in.  
  
“do we have any small dead animals in here. like a squirrel maybe? or a rat, actually, even a rat would do.” he asks as he approaches the table. he plops himself down next to renjun.  
  
renjun heaves a weary sigh and collapses onto the table. donghyuck, sour from his defeat, resentfully resumes his laundry folding. (there’s a lot of laundry because there’s seven of them.) (chenle also makes no move to help.)  
  
“as. i. was. saying.” renjun forces the words out through gritted teeth as he slowly sits back up. “jisung, do you have any masks?”  
  
“why would you ask me? you yourself tell me all the time that i need to put more effort into my skincare. plus i’ve-“  
  
“sweet jesus not that kind of mask breathing mask BREATHING MASK.”  
  
“oh, i might have some in the cupboard,” chenle pipes up.  
  
“i already looked in the toilet cupboard theres nothing there,” renjun replies.  
  
“oh no, i meant the big cupboard. that one,” chenle says, nodding his head at the large cupboard against the living room wall. “i might have some left over from that one potion i tried a few months back.”  
  
donghyuck starts, “you mean the-“  
  
chenle grimaces, “yeah.”  
  
renjun turns incredulously to chenle, “the potion that literally-“  
“yes. that one,” chenle says with a pinched smile.  
  
“The Incident…” jisung whispers in awe.  
  
chenle’s smile looks increasingly strained. “yes. i think we’ve established that so can we move on? i have masks. they’re in the cupboard.”

 

  
  
chenle did not have any masks. there were no masks in the cupboard.  
  
renjun and chenle stand in front of an empty cupboard, the contents previously in the cupboard strewn around the living room floor. jisung watches them from the couch, enjoying his 11pm snack with his chin resting on the back of the sofa.  
  
“uh. whoops.” chenle says, sounding slightly remorseful.  
renjun drops into a squat, head in his hands, “we spent twenty minutes taking everything out of the cupboard. and there are no masks. in the cupboard. at all. not even one”  
  
“it appears so,” jisung provides unhelpfully from where he’s seated cross-legged on the sofa, eating a single boiled egg.  
  
“that’s it, i’m going to-“ renjun says, getting to his feet.  
  
“you know, i’ve been thinking, why _don't_ we have any masks? i mean we’re pretty close to the wall but the air purifiers in this building are shitty at best. like if you think about it, it’s kind of stupid that we don’t have any masks in the house.” donghyuck says, joining jisung on the couch, finally done with the laundry.  
  
“we really should buy some,” jisung points out, done with his egg. he picks the last egg off of the plate balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa and in doing so, knocks it off the sofa.  
  
the plate falls to the floor and shatters.  
  
renjun stares on at the plate in despair.  
  


 

  
the door to the Crystal Cave opens for the first time that hour and jaemin pokes his head out.  
  
“that was you and not me right?”  
  
donghyuck aims a pained smile at the ceramic shards on the floor.  
  
“okay good i was afraid it was one of my vials or something.”  
  
and with that he closes the door and locks it again.

 

  
  
“and our broom is still…“ renjun sits down on the floor, trailing off as he looks helplessly around the room at the plate (ex-plate), every single item that used to be in the cupboard on the living room floor and jisung’s guilty eyes.  
  
“still very much charred. thanks to _someone's_ -“ donghyuck starts.  
  
“i’m sorry okay, how was i supposed to know it would catch on fire?” chenle defends, voice slightly higher than usual.  
  
jisung slides down the sofa, most of his face now obscured by the sofa back.  
  
“well! looks like its time for a shopping spree!” chenle says excitedly, clapping his hands together.  
  
“not a shopping spree, an errand run. we will buy a broom and some masks.” renjun levels a pointed look at chenle.  
  
“where are you going to buy that though? nothing in this building is open at eleven except for the cafe,” donghyuck points out.  
  
“night market i guess,” renjun sighs. “and here i was hoping for a nap. why is getting enough sleep always such an unobtainable goal?”  
  
renjun walks over to the sofa, carefully side-stepping around the plate (ex-plate) and slides a box out from underneath furniture. he opens the lid and pulls out a long black bundle of cloth. he holds it out to jisung who straps it around his waist and pulls his shirt down over it. he eyes the rest of the room as he grabs his jacket off of the coffee table, “who’s coming with?”  
  
“me me, i want to visit mouse,” jisung says, getting off the couch and running to his room.  
  
(mouse is the name of jisung’s pet snake.)  
  
(the others didn’t let him bring mouse up to the apartment so mouse lives down in market street at jisung’s old house.)  
  
“does this mean we have to put all this back?” chenle asks, gesturing at the mess on the floor.  
  
“you, not me. i didn’t have anything to do with this. plus i folded all the laundry,” donghyuck says, flinging himself onto the sofa with a wink and brief finger guns.  
  
jisung reemerges from the bedroom dressed in a bomber jacket and not-so-safely tosses two twin pistols to renjun. they nearly hit donghyuck but renjun manages to deftly catch both of them, one in each hand.  
  
“please never do that again,” donghyuck says, exasperation evident.  
  
“sorry,” jisung replies, not sounding very sorry. he steps around the sofa to join renjun at the doorway while simultaneously weaving several long, sharp needles into the inside of his jacket.  
  
“do you ever wear any other shoes? at all?” jisung asks raising an eyebrow as he pulls his own combat boots on.  
  
“its a pain the ass trying to remove these insoles from these shoes,” renjun sighs, listlessly kicking jisung in the thigh with his laced-up boot as he stands.  
  
at that jisung gets up too, giving the long thin needle in his hand a few fancy spins before deftly tucking it into his sleeve.  
  
“well, off we go,” jisung says with a mock salute and a bow.  
  
“off we fucking go, please fix the cupboard,” renjun waves a hand and kicks open the door without looking back.

"please nab me a rat or something," chenle calls out after them.

the front door clicks shut resolutely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHIPS yes hi thank you if you're still reading this just to let y'all know if anyone out there actually likes this au and has ideas or stuff the offer from chapter one is still open, do come and hmu on twt @renjunerest <3 feedback is greatly appreciated, (pls leave a comment it helps with self-esteem hehe love yall) thanks folks :D


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